purple
by Juleezy
Summary: Silence cuts her like a blade, sharp and threatening and gleaming as it terrorizes to stab and poke at her flaws and insecurities. But with him, she lives. [Tifa's thoughts in game, Cloti.]


**Revised with help from the two lovelies, Lilly and Tiffany. 6.15.13**

**A/N: **drabbley wannabe oneshot, experiment in some sorts.

_**p**_urple

Silence cuts her like a blade, sharp and threatening and gleaming as it forewarns to stab and poke at her flaws and insecurities.

A cloud of smoke blankets the flame, concealing the fiery sparks lying within. The flames sparkle as brightly as an assortment of gems. A breeze arrives, coolly dismissing the hazy presence. The sparks are allowed entry above.

One person shines bright amongst the rest, and it's not because of his golden hair and sparkling blue orbs or his relationship to the man that had marked both him and her. It is twinkling skies and shooting stars and a whisper of a childhood promise full of hope and desire and the possibilities of the future made many years back.

The countless years of dreaming to be rescued by her knight in shining armor was soon extinguished when years had faded by, and there was a sure lack-no, confusion-of memories and them, _together_.

However, she would no longer be rescued, and it is not because Zangan had taught her martial arts or that she had learned how to live in the dangerous slums by a man with a gun for an arm. It is because there wouldn't be a him and her, but rather a him and _her. _

_She's _everything that she isn't - purity, beauty, and especially hope: a hope for a better future, a better Planet. _She's _the embodiment of perfection with a dash of pink and a sparkle of green.

There is not enough room for red. It can not breathe.

There's pink on her moderate dress, the ribbon that keeps her spiral auburn curls in place, and on the pair of two rosy lips and pale apple cheeks. Besides pink, there is green in big and bright emerald eyes, unmatched by the finest materia or the Planet's creation or the Lifestream. There is life and elegance.

Then there is red - in the color of her fighting gloves, in the eyes that have dulled from the lack of happiness in life, in the fire that destroyed a hometown, in the blood that has stained a few too many.

Red signals to stop. Green signals to go.

The sound of the superior female's name passes through his lips followed by laughter and flirting remarks, and silence abuses her as its blade trails her skin.

Head slightly lowered and arms around her middle, she listens in feigned interest to a heated discussion between several older men and a younger girl, but the sound of the altercation is distinguished as a familiar calloused hand grips her shoulder. She looks up to his previous position to see that he is not with _her_, who is happily chatting with another one of their peers.

Slightly behind the rest of the group, they walk side by side, and she doesn't understand why.

After _she _had joined their team, he had paid less to no attention to her, though there were questioning glances of azure eyes that would avert rather quickly. It was saddening to say the least, but she had to stay optimistic and happy for the team - no, herself. She would learn to conquer the disappointment.

"She's perfect, isn't she?" And her eyes suddenly find the ground interesting, pieces of dark locks veiling her visage as they released themselves from the red band tying her hair.

Silence is deafening, sharp and ready, waiting for a new opportunity to strike.

"Perfect is overrated." His right hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face.

That same hand hesitantly and slowly intertwines with her left. He smiles.

Red and blue meet.

She sees a glimpse of the boy she once knew and not the man of cockiness and hardness he had become. There are detected shy glances and awkward abrupt interactions and a little innocent boy saving a girl's life at Mt. Nibel.

There is Cloud, Cloud Strife. Next door neighbor and knight in shining armor of Tifa Lockhart.

The hues are joined with the simple paint stroke of an artist. They are no longer their own, but rather, have been created anew. Red and blue coexist and gives a new breath of air.

She lives.


End file.
